Revolution of the Heart
by valentinespen
Summary: AU fic. Sometimes the first impression isn't lasting enough. It might take the second, or the third... On an indefinite hiatus. Discontinued.


This is an Alternate Universe fiction. Sorry if there are mistakes present. I don't have a beta reader.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Ryan Murphy and FOX own Glee.

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Revolution of the Heart

**Prologue**

Anticipation bubbled in the Fabray residence. The family glued their eyes to the clock as the minute hand crawled its way to large 12.

"Happy New Year! A new year already. Amazing," Russell Fabray exclaimed. Cheers were heard outside the window of their Brooklyn home. Judy Fabray wrapped her slender arm around her husband's waist while the other hand held on to a wine glass. Russell placed a kiss head of the petite woman in his arms. On the right side of their small living room two blonde girls intertwined fingers and skipped in vertigo-inducing circles. They both fell to the floor and giggled while staring up at the ceiling. The younger blonde sat up and looked down at her older sister.

"Again?" the she asked excitedly.

"Quinn, I'm not allowing you to stay up any later," Russell interrupted. "You know you have work in the morning." Quinn looked up at him with heartbreaking hazel eyes.

"Don't give me that look, Quinn. At this rate, by the time you close your eyes it'll be sunrise."

"But Daddy, I don't wanna go to work. Ms. Sylvester is so mean to us and I'm tired," whined the small voice. She proceeded to dramatically collapse to the floor to exaggerate her point. Anyone could tell from one look at the 11-year-old's frame she was almost emaciated, but that fact did not seem to bother Russell Fabray.

"Quinn, we all work hard to make ends meet in this family. You missing one day's work may cost us dinner. Besides, the last time I checked, you weren't exactly on Sue's good list of workers. Now, get up and go to bed." He narrowed his eyes in an effort to intimidate his daughter.

"That goes for you too, Hannah," interjected Judy.

The girls lethargically stood up and dragged their feet to their room where they shared a bed. The mother stood in the center of the living room and wore an expression of hopelessness. The Fabray home did not contain much upholstering. A small bookcase displayed a few books, each characteristic to its reader: Charles Dickens for Mr. Fabray, the Holy Bible for Judy, and an anthology of Lord Byron's poems for Quinn (Hannah's heart rested with Frédéric Chopin instead of books). A short rickety cherry wood table supported a vase full of faux flowers. The dilapidated couch's cream fabric, often receiving visits from Hannah's and Quinn's feet, was slowly tearing away.

Judy could not help but wonder if her furniture was mocking her mental state. Russell took a few small steps until he was behind her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned around and tilted her head up to see her husband reflecting a tired face.

"Honey, there will be changes. Don't fret. Let's retire to bed," he soothed.

January 1, 1852 was a cold day in Brooklyn, New York. Quinn shivered in her thin clothing and wrapped hfer overcoat even more tightly around her. The young blonde could not fathom how she managed to drag her feet to the factory that morning or for the past nine months. Possibly hearing enough of her father complaining about her work ethic was enough motivation to get out of bed. Before she walked into the massive maroon building, she inhaled deeply and stared at the chipped paint of the sign that bluntly read SYLVESTER'S PRINTING COMPANY that was plastered at the very top of the structure.

Quinn was never late to work. Not unless she wanted to join the club of unfortunates that screamed for mercy at the hands of Sue Sylvester. Shortly after she walked in, a pale, dark haired boy the same age as Quinn anxiously jogged up to her. He wore a big goofy grin and had an amiable nature.

"Hey, Quinn! Happy New Year," he quickly spit out. He took advantage of the blonde's silence (and drowsiness) and enveloped her in a bear hug.

She slightly squirmed in his large arms and awkwardly patted him on the back and mumbled into his armpit, "Get off of me, Finn."

Not hearing her quite clearly, he backed up and asked, "What?"

"Uh, Happy New Year to you too. Have you seen the others?"

"Of course. They're downstairs. You know you're always the last to arrive," he chuckled.

"Ha-ha, yeah," Quinn replied then rolled her eyes as she turned around to head towards the stairs. It was packed with a number of sleep deprived kids. Familiar faces appeared as Quinn made it downstairs to the stock room. Finn managed to make it downstairs and initiated a conversation with another boy with tan skin and a buzz cut known as Puck. By a counter, a blonde girl was playing a heated game of _Rock, Paper, Scissors_ with a girl of a Latino lineage. A brunette girl sat in solitude with her head resting on a rather large book. Her long locks consumed her face, but a small portion of her nose protruded out.

Quinn proceeded to hang her overcoat up on a nearby coat rack. She somehow convinced her father to buy boy's clothing by stating it was "easier to work in". Her brown pants were held steady at her waist by suspenders. Underneath the suspenders was a crinkled white shirt. Her hair cascaded at both sides of her shoulders. She mindlessly adjusted her shirt back into her pants and tightened the laces on her leather black shoes. While Quinn began to wonder what book was serving as the brunette girl's pillow she was pulled out of her thoughts by an excited high-pitched voice.

"Quinn! We were just thinking about you. Santana and I were just playing a good ol' game of _Rock, Paper, Scissors_," the blonde started. Santana, whose arm was a supportive kickstand for her head, deepened her seemingly permanent scowl.

"From the looks of this game I'm assuming you're winning, Brittany," Quinn said. She wondered how Brittany managed to be so peppy even in the early hours of the day.

"Anyway, Happy New Year to you both. Any resolutions?"

"To get Puck to stop bothering me," Santana interjected. Brittany giggled and began to tease Santana.

"Aw, San, he thinks you're cute."

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested. That kid thinks any girl is cute. Except for…" Santana motioned her head in the direction of the other brunette that was passed out on the table with the book underneath her. She inhaled a rather large snore which caused the trio to breakout in raucous laughter. Brittany decided to continue on with the initial topic.

"My resolution is to work hard enough to get Ms. Sylvester to learn my name. You know, Quinn, it isn't really helpful when she yells, 'Blondie' and both of us turn around."

"Pfft, I'll be lucky if I even get through this year with that monster. She hates my guts," Quinn scoffed. "What do you think her resolutions are?"

"To scare us," Santana said.

"Seems like she's been doing that one every year," Brittany returned. The three girls chuckled again and nodded in agreement. A horn blared and reverberated throughout the whole factory signaling it was finally six o' clock. The sleeping beauty suddenly soared up and slapped her book off the table.

A tall, middle aged woman with short blonde hair commanded her way into the stock room. She wore a white collared shirt with complementary beige breeches. Her black shoes were the shiniest things ever seen next to the sun.

"The woman that induces fear, Sue Sylvester, is finally here," said Sue. Terrified faces stared back at her.

"No need to get excited, kiddies. Now, I know I'm just… _stunning_ but you guys have _got_ to stop staring at me because time is money and money is time, and if I'm not getting any - then neither are you," said the boss in one breath. She continued, "Split up into your groups! Do I have to tell you vagabonds twice?" Like wildfire the workers began to quickly disperse. Then Sue began to walk over to Quinn's clique.

"Except for you three. Lopez, Blondie," she pointed first at Santana and Brittany, "I don't want you working with Blondie Number Two." Then Sue turned towards Quinn and narrowed her eyes. "I'm not appreciating the quality of work coming you're producing, and I have a strange feeling it's because you're working with these scatterbrains. So today, you're working with Berry."

Santana snorted then quickly feigned a coughing fit. Quinn clenched her jaw and answered, "Yes, Ms. Sylvester." Brittany and Santana left the helpless blonde with Sylvester and headed to their packaging station.

"Hey, Berry, get over here!" Sue called. The brunette girl stopped in her tracks before she made it to the staircase. Every inch of her body was covered in black clothing. Her petite frame was covered by the black, thin, gauzy dress that stopped at her ankles. She gazed at Sue with frightened eyes before walking the direction of the small group.

"Today, you will be working with Blondie in the printing room. You know the drill: stack the papers on the belt and check for any paper jams."

After three hours, Quinn felt that death was sitting on her shoulders, but her co-worker's sluggish movements were even worse. Quinn was about to go crazy. The brunette's constant humming irritating her. Although, she did admit it was a pleasant sound. Quinn, in desperation to stop the humming, started up a conversation with the girl.

"So, Berry–"

"Rachel – is my name. I prefer Rachel."

"Right, sorry. Uh, Rachel, I noticed you were reading a book earlier… or taking a nap on it I should say."

Rachel's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Yes. And?"

Quinn's throat started to feel constricted and her nerves slightly took over. "I was just… just wondering what book o-or author you were reading."

"Lord Byron, if you must know. I'm a big fan of his poems. He's such a romantic. The way he expresses his love would make any girl swoon."

Quinn smiled in excitement. "I love Lord Byron as well. Actually, my parents have a few of his books at home. I never thought I would meet another kid that also reads."

"My dad works in a library. He's always encouraged reading from the moment I spoke my first word, which was Rachel," Rachel said. She beamed at the mention of her own name. "The art of writing is so beautiful and captivating. How can someone not love it? Especially if you're reading the work of a noble fellow like Lord Byron," continued Rachel.

She spoke so quickly that Quinn had almost trouble keeping up. Another two hours passed by and sleep threatened the girls again. Rachel kept shaking her head in attempts to stay awake.

"Rachel, are you sure you don't want me to take over the stacking?"

"No, no, no. I'm fine. Just thinking with my eyes closed."

Quinn gave Rachel a strange look after she turned around. "Well I'm just gonna head off to the washroom. I'll be right back," Quinn said while walking towards the door. She made sure she barely heard as she ran because Sue's office was on the same floor as the printing room. After completing her toilet duties, Quinn stepped out into a corridor and leaned her back against a wall.

"Rachel's not that bad. You're such a bad influence, Santana," she spoke quietly to the air.

A loud sound that resembled crushing and shredding echoed down the hallway. Quinn ran at lightning speed to the printing room. Rachel was waving her arms around frantically while the printing press growled and sputtered paper back at her.

"Rachel? What happened?"

"I don't know. I just dozed off and-"

"You fell asleep? Great job!" Quinn exclaimed which made Rachel even more hysterical. Quinn pulled a lever on the side of the machine that consequently slowed down the wedges to a halt. She put her hand on her hip and took in a few deep breaths. Rachel seemed like she was on the verge of tears.

"What the hell just happened?" questioned Sue Sylvester. "Which one of you brats almost ruined my machine?" Both girls were speechless.

"Whose. Fault. Was it?" she repeated in a dangerous tone.

"I did it," confessed Quinn before Rachel could speak. Rachel's jaw was slightly agape.

"Why am I not surprised, Blondie?"

"It's Quinn. Not Blondie."

Sue paused, tilted her head, and said, "Do you really think I give a shit what your name is?" Quinn still planted her feet firmly into the ground even though her heart was racing a mile a minute. Suddenly, someone flicked on the bravery-switch in Quinn's brain.

"Well, I'm sick and tired of you always picking on me!"

Sue raised her eyebrows and coolly said in a mocking tone, "Well, I'm sick and tired you nagging and complaining. You're fired."


End file.
